


Felix Infelicis: A Collection of Bad-Luck AUs

by Sunnyskywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Luck, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyskywalker/pseuds/Sunnyskywalker
Summary: Many terrible things happen in the Harry Potter books. On the other hand, sometimes only astonishing luck kept things from being worse. A lot worse. Voldemort might rule wizarding Britain today if...- Harry and Hermione had been expelled for dragon-smuggling- Lupin had transformed before Snape arrived in the Shrieking Shack- Dudley had waited until the scary wizards left to try that Ton-Tongue Toffee...and more.





	1. Dragon Smuggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little more foresight, Draco could have gotten Hagrid and the Trio in a _lot_ of trouble over that dragon.

Charlie’s friends were a merry bunch. Harry was relieved as they strapped Norbert’s crate to their brooms. They’d gotten the baby dragon away from Hagrid not a moment too soon.

Or at least, that’s what he thought until the air rippled and a dozen figures on brooms appeared surrounding the tower. Charlie’s friends’ wands flew from their hands, and ropes appeared out of thin air to bind them all.

“You are all under arrest for violating the International Anti-Dragon-Smuggling Act!” one of the uniformed figures shouted.

Harry turned back to the stairs, wildly hoping that the wizard police hadn’t gotten a good look at them and they could still run for it—but another figure was already blocking their escape.

“But we’re underage!” Hermione protested as the figures landed.

“They are awfully young,” one of them said, frowning as he peered at their faces by wandlight.

“You’re right. Let’s take them to the headmaster. He can start expulsion proceedings.”

“Say, what’s this?” another said.

It was the invisibility cloak. “That’s mine!” Harry exclaimed.

The official looked disapproving. “Who allowed someone your age to have an invisibility cloak at school? Let’s go. We have a lot to discuss with the headmaster.”

Harry’s back crawled under the gaze of the official who followed him down the stairs. He was going to be expelled, and maybe worse, before he’d even finished his first year of school. The Dursleys would be furious not to have gotten rid of him after all.

“Dumbledore won’t let them,” Hermione whispered. “They’ve got to show leniency given our ages.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right,” Harry replied, feeling more hopeful as they reached the bottom of the tower.

That hope was quickly dashed. They heard a scuffle in the hall, quickly revealed to be Malfoy and Professor McGonagall, the latter clad in a tartan bathrobe.

“Who are you?” she demanded, turning her wand on the group.

“Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Office of Investigation,” one replied. “A concerned citizen turned over a letter confirming an illegal smuggling operation.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. They had the letter from Charlie. They had proof. There was no way out now.

Malfoy drew himself up. “As I was saying, Professor, Potter’s got a dragon.”


	2. Early Moonrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonrise doesn’t always wait obligingly until the exposition is delivered and a rescuer at hand.

Severus raced down the tunnel, cursing the narrow dimensions. If only he’d gone to Lupin’s office the moment he realized the werewolf was late for his potion instead of “giving him a chance,” as Dumbledore had insisted…

The girl’s high-pitched screams told him he was too late.

Or was he? A tangle of snarling fur tumbled down the stairs ten yards before him, monstrous by wandlight. The wolf, the tunnel, the smell of earth: years of nightmares about that night made horrifyingly real.

Wait. There were _two_ canine forms. What in—

Then the lighter form made a break for it—in Severus’s direction. He didn’t hesitate. The law only restricted the spell’s use against humans.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The werewolf fell with a thud.

At last. After all these years, he had justice.

Severus jumped when the other form suddenly rose into a man-shape. Of course. Black was an Animagus. Now the pieces were falling into place.

“What have you done? You don’t understand!” Black rushed to the body of his friend.

Severus Petrified Black, Stunned him, and bound him for good measure. They would need to interrogate him before turning him over to the Dementors.

The girl screamed again, and the Weasley boy with her. Something was still wrong.

Severus raced up the stairs.

Potter’s friends lay in pools of blood, throats torn out. Over their bodies, a green-eyed wolf growled and tensed, ready to attack.


	3. Ton-Tongue Toffees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dudley slips a toffee in his pocket for later.

Harry dashed through the fire, glad to escape the increasingly furious Dursleys. Arthur Weasley remained behind, protesting that he could repair the bits of living room they’d wrecked.

“What were those sweets you dropped?” Harry asked Fred and George.

“Oh, nothing much.” Fred winked.

Mr. Weasley returned, cutting their conversation short. The twins looked at him expectantly, but he only said that he’d gotten the fireplace back to its original state and that the Dursleys were very peculiar people.

“Ah, well. We tried,” George said once they were out of earshot. “Ton-Tongue Toffees,” he explained to Harry. “They’re a joke item we’re working on. Too bad your cousin didn’t eat one—that would have been a good laugh. We've been looking for someone to test them on all summer.”

Later, they were all enjoying the fine weather and Mrs. Weasley’s excellent dinner when a crack announced the arrival of two grim-faced wizards.

“Isn’t that Kingsley Shacklebolt?” Bill said quietly. “Were you expecting any Aurors, Dad?”

“Arthur, I’ll need to ask you and these two a few questions,” the wizard called Shacklebolt said, nodding toward Harry and Ron.

“Of course.” Mr. Weasley looked nervous. “What about?”

Harry hoped Mr. Weasley hadn’t gotten caught enchanting another car. He wouldn’t get in much trouble if he hadn’t flown it, though, would he?

But they weren’t there about a car. “Fred and George Weasley,” Shacklebolt’s partner said, “you are under arrest for the murder of the Muggle, Dudley Dursley.”


	4. Always the Innocent Are the First Victims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something dangerous enough to kill unicorns is stalking the Forbidden Forest. Just the time to send four children into it for detention with a cowardly dog and a wandless wizard for protection. What could go wrong?

Harry had returned to the castle some time after the Malfoy boy thanks to the intervention of Firenze. He was pale and stammering something about a hooded figure drinking silvery blood from a unicorn’s corpse.

The other three had not returned. The search party set out at dawn.

Pomona found the bodies. Hagrid, Neville, and Hermione lay where they fell, strung out along the path. The poor girl hadn’t even had time to look surprised before she died. She must have been killed first.

“I never thought… I never intended…” Minerva broke down. Quirinus nervously patted her shoulder in sympathy. He looked in the pink of health this morning—a striking contrast to his sickly fatigue this past week.

“What were you and Albus thinking?” Pomona said, blowing into a handkerchief. “Children shouldn’t be in the forest with a beast dangerous enough to kill unicorns, never mind confronting it!”

“This was no beast,” Severus said. “Look at the bodies. There’s not a mark on them. I think we’re all familiar with the most likely cause of death.”

Flitwick spun around with his wand raised as if the culprit might still be lurking about, waiting to duel. When none appeared, he turned back to the group, still on alert. “That would explain the unicorn deaths, too. A wizard carrying a wand would have the advantage of distance. I hope we are looking for a single killer?”

“Oh, p-p-please don’t t-t-tell me there are t-t-two of them!” Quirinus did an excellent impression of shrinking in fear.

Albus had thought that in his weakened condition, Quirinus would have posed no danger to Hagrid and the students last night.

Obviously, he had miscalculated.


	5. Absurd Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily is going to prove Sev's ridiculous theory wrong.

The third knot Lily poked with the branch froze the Whomping Willow. She straightened up, breathing hard. That had been close.

In the light of the full moon, it didn’t take long to find the dark hole between the roots. She scrambled down without hesitation. Right. Now she could settle this once and for all. Tomorrow, she would be able to tell Sev that whatever creature from the Forbidden Forest had hidden down there was gone, and that it absolutely _wasn’t_ a werewolf.

Honestly. As if Dumbledore would hide a werewolf in that tunnel and not even put a grate with a lock inside to keep anyone from stumbling into it by accident. Nothing but a _tree_? He would never be so careless. Lily could prove it, and then Sev would have to get over his ridiculous fixation.

The tunnel was uncomfortably narrow, and the overpowering smell of dirt made her sneeze. She held her wand steady. It wasn’t much light, but enough to see where she was going. How long _was_ this tunnel?

Lily was starting to wonder whether she might die of boredom when she heard growling and snarling ahead. She frowned. Apparently, something had made its lair down here permanently. Fine, then. She’d get a look, Stun it, and that would be the end of it.

What could it be? It sounded like a dog. That made sense—Sev had seen a feral dog and thought it was a werewolf in his panic.

“Evans, come back!”

Lily spun around. That sounded like Potter, far off—maybe back at the end of the tunnel. What was he doing here?

“Run, Evans!”

The growling was close. Lily turned back toward it—and froze.

Barreling down the tunnel was a gray dog. No. A wolf. But wolves were extinct in Britain…

“Stupify!” Lily shouted. The wolf shook it off. “Petrificus Totalis!” It stumbled, then crouched for a final charge.

Sev couldn’t be right. He couldn’t. It was absurd—


	6. Blackmail Is a Delicate Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita sees a chance to foil Hermione's blackmail scheme--and maybe take down Dumbledore and get in good with the coming new regime in the bargain. It's risky, but when has risk ever deterred an unregistered Animagus?

Rita flew out of the jar, fuming. The nerve of that girl! Not that Rita couldn’t appreciate ruthlessness in pursuit of one’s goals, but the little horror was trying to ruin _her_ career. A whole year, silenced? And then living the rest of her life under that brat’s thumb? No. She was going to find a way out, and then she was going to make the girl pay.

Three hours later, she sat in a discreet and very expensive establishment, enjoying an absurdly overpriced drink courtesy of Lucius Malfoy.

“You look like you’ve had a dreadful week,” she said. He did. His fingers tapped his glass nervously, and he had shadows under his eyes. “Has something not worked out as you hoped?”

“You could make an argument either way,” he replied. “Would you mind terribly if we skipped the preliminaries? I don’t have half an hour to spend dancing around. What do you want?”

She could still back out. It was a gamble. They might not have quite enough leverage to keep the girl from exposing her. And if it wasn’t a delusion or part of some elaborate smoke-and-mirrors plot… if Malfoy’s master really had returned…

Then she had better prove her usefulness early on, she decided. “The Granger girl has made a wild accusation that I’m an unregistered Animagus,” she said.

Malfoy frowned. “How unfortunate. I do hope the distress won’t affect your work. I was quite enjoying the direction of your investigations this past year.”

“It’s nonsense, of course. Just like the boy’s even more outlandish story.”

“I’m sure we all realize he is the sadly misled victim of a Confundus Curse cast by the imposter in an attempt to cover up his murder of poor Cedric Diggory. Shocking that the headmaster didn't detect the substitution.” He sounded bored. “But a story doesn’t have to be true to cause trouble.”

Time to hook him. “In fact, I have reason to believe her story is just as much the result of outside influence as the boy’s. The headmaster’s, in fact. It’s very plausible that he concocted the tale to deflect attention from the fact that _he_ is harboring an unregistered Animagus. Who happens to be the notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black.”

That got his attention. “Is that so? Can you confirm it?”

“I saw him transform with my own eyes.” Not that beetle vision was very good, but no sense confusing the issue with irrelevant details. “Dumbledore instructed him to, and I quote, ‘lie low’ with the werewolf to await further orders.”

“Did he indeed.” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Cornelius recently expressed some concerns about the headmaster’s decisions.”

“So he would draw the correct conclusions if someone explained that Dumbledore is preparing a smear campaign against innocent members of the press to preserve his own reputation?”

“Yes… yes, I think he would. It would be a travesty were one of our most eminent journalists to be slandered for nobly pursuing the truth, after all. A strong Minister would protect the press from such outrageous attacks. What was Black’s Animagus form?”

“A large black dog. Oh, and the Weasleys have pledged their loyalty to Dumbledore, incidentally.”

“I’m sure I'll be able to make good use of this information.”

She had already cast the die; no sense in stopping here. To ensure her safety, she had to go on the offensive. “Then maybe you could assist with some of my investigations, since you've been enjoying them so much. I wonder whether you know of any other questionable decisions the old coot’s made? Things which might have been suppressed? The public deserves to know just who they’ve entrusted their children’s welfare to.”

“As a matter of fact…” Malfoy’s eyes glittered. “I have evidence that he participated in the cover-up of an illegal dragon smuggling operation a few years ago. Well, his deputy, but it comes to the same thing. His staff, his responsibility. And you’ll never guess which irritating little upstart was in it up to her neck.”

“No!” This was far better than she’d hoped.

“Along with Dumbledore’s pet celebrity, his brute of a gamekeeper, and a pack of red-headed traitors.”

It was as if Father Christmas had come early. “Evidence, you say?”

“A letter arranging the operation and eyewitness testimony from a student who saw the dragon with his own eyes. He’s been too terrified of retaliation to come forward.”

“A reasonable reaction under the circumstances.”

“And then there was the suspicious incident a year later when two Slytherin students found themselves drugged and locked in a cupboard—at the same time other students thought they saw those same boys in the common room behaving in a most peculiar manner…”

Yes, Rita thought. Revenge was going to be sweet.


	7. The Fatal Bounce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barty gets a little carried away with his ferret-bouncing lesson.

The ferret flew through the air, squealing in pain, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

“Never—do—that—again—” said Moody as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward over and over again.

The ferret squirmed, and this time, it hit the floor neck-first with a sickening crack. Malfoy would have to spend some time in the hospital wing, Harry thought, remembering the night Madam Pomfrey had re-grown all the bones in his arm.

“Professor Moody!” came a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall had stopped halfway down the marble staircase, her arms full of books, staring at the ferret lying motionless on the floor.

“What—what have you done?”

“Administered a little discipline,” he growled.

“Disc—Moody, is that a student?” McGonagall dropped the books.

She must have reached for her wand as the books tumbled, because before Harry could blink, Moody went rigid—Petrified—and toppled over. Professor McGonagall rushed to the ferret and gasped a spell. With a loud snap, it turned back into Malfoy, pale and still.

“Bet he’s shamming, like last year,” Ron muttered. “How long do you reckon he’ll get to stay out of class this time?”

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione hissed. “Can’t you see something’s wrong?”

McGonagall looked very grave. “Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle. Send every professor you can find here immediately. Miss Granger, notify the Headmaster that his old friend has just murdered a student.”

* * *

As much as Harry had hated Malfoy, his death was an awful shock. It was also an uncomfortable revelation that some injuries happened too quickly for magic to fix. Now he wondered what would happen if a Bludger ever hit him in the neck. Would it snap too, like Malfoy’s on the stone floor?

Then came the disturbing news that Moody wasn’t even Moody. In fact, he was an escaped Death Eater—Crouch’s son, no less—who’d kidnapped Moody and taken his place. Who knew what horrible things he’d been planning? At least the professors were able to find the real Moody before he starved to death in his trunk. And Harry thought Sirius would probably be glad to hear that Crouch was being charged with a very long list of felonies.

“Look on the bright side,” Ron said over toast the next morning. “At least now we can enjoy the Tournament without Malfoy smirking all over the place.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say, Ron,” Hermione said—without much conviction, Harry thought.

The Tournament _was_ fun to watch, and with the real Moody recovered, the year went pretty much as planned. The Yule Ball was horribly awkward, true, and there was definitely something suspicious about Karkaroff and whatever about his arm had him in a panic. But all in all, it was a pretty good year, especially since it looked like Cedric was set to win.

Until Fleur Delacour stumbled out of the maze saying, “Ze cup, it has gone!” and a thorough search found no trace of Cedric Diggory. When Karkaroff turned up missing as well, Harry had a sinking feeling that something was very wrong indeed.

* * *

Lord Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron. To have a _body_ again… He ran his hands over himself, exulting in the feeling of his own flesh at last, flesh which would not fail him and force him to find another host, flesh which could channel the full range of his magic. He caressed his wand, imagining the spells he would cast.

He’d thought all might be lost when his faithful servant at Hogwarts was unmasked almost immediately thanks to his lack of restraint, but in the end, everything had worked out. Sending Wormtail to scurry into the maze and turn the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey was a good deal less complicated than his original plan, especially since he’d realized the benefits of using blood from an enemy other than Harry Potter. Now that he thought about it, sharing blood with the boy might have had unpredictable side-effects. Far better to use the Tournament Champion, the strongest of the rising generation of wizards.

Lord Voldemort smiled. Now it was time to summon his Death Eaters.

“Hold out your arm, Wormtail…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wouldn't think that _not_ being kidnapped and forced to donate blood for Voldemort's resurrection would be bad luck, but so Jo would have it. No traumatized-and-bloody Harry means no Get Out of Death Free Card. The Potterverse is brutal.


	8. Incendiary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fireworks are more dangerous than the kids realized. They didn't mean for this to happen...

The firework landed directly in Goyle’s cauldron, splashing Swelling Solution over at least a half-dozen Slytherins. Excellent. Harry tried to hide his grin.

Within an instant, Goyle’s howls of pain turned to strangled choking sounds. He clawed at his expanding neck. 

_He must have inhaled some of the potion. His throat’s swelling shut,_ Harry realized. He hadn't meant for that to happen. But it would give Hermione a better chance to steal the boomslang skin if it took longer for Snape to take care of the Slytherins.

Just as Harry had that thought, Goyle’s saucer-sized eyes burst. Then, with a loud crack, his neck dropped to an unnatural angle and he fell.

Snape was doing something with his wand and an apothecary’s worth of bottles he retrieved from his pockets, but it was too late.


	9. Abominably Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Minerva punished Neville for "losing" the passwords to Gryffindor Tower by making him wait in the hall, she never thought it would end this way.

Neville huddled closer against the cold stone, wishing he could vanish into the wall. Better than those trolls leering at him and smacking their clubs into their palms. He tried not to think about Sirius Black creeping down the halls, ready to kill anyone who stood between him and Harry. Like Neville. Whatever had scared him off last time, he wouldn’t hesitate if it were only Neville in the way.

He was _sure_ he’d left the list of passwords inside the tower. How could Black have got ahold of it? And if he could get into the tower to steal them, then why did he need the passwords?

He never worked it out, because just then, he looked up to see a gaunt figure with matted hair and a horrible grin. Sirius Black didn’t even see Neville as aimed his wand at the trolls.

* * *

Remus felt too sick to eat the chocolate Madam Pomfrey had passed around the staff room. That poor boy…

“I don’t see why you should be upset,” Professor McGonagall yelled at Snape, red and shaking. “You always treated that boy abominably!”

“Don’t pretend superiority,” Snape said coldly. “You berated him for his ineptitude as often as I did. At least I never left him prey to a mass-murderer. Or to a unicorn-killer, come to that. It was a miracle Longbottom survived your detentions until third year.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Sprout cried. “Casting blame won’t help anyone.”

“On the contrary. Identifying weaknesses in our security is imperative to protecting the rest of the students. Did it occur to anyone else that if Longbottom remembered correctly—uncharacteristic, I know, but possible—that he had left the passwords in Gryffindor Tower, then Black must have a collaborator inside the castle?” His murderous glare left no doubt as to his prime suspect. 

Remus gulped. He knew all too well how quickly even your closest friends could suspect you of betrayal if you were a werewolf. And these were not his closest friends.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Dumbledore said, giving him hope. “Neville may not have been the only student to write down the passwords. We may yet discover that someone else was inadvertently responsible.”

“We should find out how Black got into the castle,” Flitwick interjected. “If we can block the entrance he used, that might keep us safe until the Dementors recapture him.”

“An excellent idea,” Snape agreed. Remus didn’t like the way his eyes glittered. “Who knows the castle best? You did quite a bit of exploring in your day, didn’t you, Lupin?”

“The castle has changed since I was a student. You know how it does that,” Remus demurred. “I understand Fred and George Weasley are the current experts. Perhaps they know something without realizing its significance?”

Snape smiled, which made Remus even more nervous. He had the feeling he’d just walked into a trap.

“I had the same thought,” Snape said. “Which is why the Weasley twins and I had a little chat earlier. They’ve never faced a determined interrogation over something as serious as murder before, and folded much more quickly than their reputations would suggest. They told me that several years ago, they found a most interesting map in Mr. Filch’s office.”

Oh, no. Remus rubbed his clammy palms against his robes. “Is that so?”

“It shows not only the locations of every person on the Hogwarts grounds—which, I must say, explains a few things in retrospect—but also several hidden tunnels to points outside the walls. One, for example, leads from the third floor to the cellar of Honeydukes. Potter used it to sneak into Hogsmeade after the Weasley twins decided he ought to have the map.”

Damn, the tunnels. Remus had hoped they’d been blocked off, or caved in. But he couldn’t have told anyone, because—well, no. He could have mentioned the tunnels without confessing those… other nocturnal excursions, he realized belatedly. Dumbledore wouldn’t have cared whether he and his friends had sneaked off to Hogsmeade—in human form—for sweets and butterbeer all those years ago. But surely he’d known already. Maybe Dumbledore had left one tunnel open as a trap, and things went wrong. Or maybe Sirius had got in another way. It might not be his fault. 

“I wonder where they got that idea?” Snape continued. “This map claims to have been created by Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Remind me, Lupin, what were the nicknames you and your little gang used in school?”

They all turned to look at him. What could he say that wouldn’t sound like a feeble excuse? There was no way to explain how it wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be.

His imagination sent the Dementors’ chill down his neck.


End file.
